


I Can't Make You Love Me

by consultingjohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, TW: Suicide, TW: suicidal thoughts, teen!lock, tw: self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingjohn/pseuds/consultingjohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In its most terrible form, what can love do?</p><p>This part of this teen!lock fanfic was inspired by a song called "I can't make you love me" by Adele (originally by Bonnie Raitt).</p></blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In its most terrible form, what can love do?
> 
> This part of this teen!lock fanfic was inspired by a song called "I can't make you love me" by Adele (originally by Bonnie Raitt).

 

>  
> 
> _'Cause I can't make you love me_  
>  _If you don't_  
>  _You can't make your heart feel_  
>  _Something that it won't._  
>  _And here in the dark_  
>  _In these final hours,_  
>  _I will lay down my heart_  
>  _And I will feel the power;_  
>  _But you won't._  
>  _No, you won't._  
>  _'Cause I can't make you love me_  
>  _When you don't._

Sherlock was lying on his bed; according to his black, ugly alarm clock it was only 7 pm, but it was already dark outside. It was silent, too silent; even streets were silent. Sherlock's mind was a mess, his mind palace was collapsing; everything was blurry.  
 Sherlock hugged his pillow and closed his eyes, tried to prevent himself from crying. He missed John, well, the “good old” John. After John started dating that girl called Mary, he wasn't John anymore, he wasn't the John Sherlock loved. Sherlock and John didn't solve cases anymore like they used to, Mary had filled John’s heart and life.

 Sherlock sighed and sat up. He had to hold his head for a while; he had a massive migraine. He was having withdrawal symptoms again, great. He looked at his arms; they were full of cuts, some of them were older and some of them were made just a couple hours ago. He sounded like a typical teenager; broken heart which causes self-harming. But no; this was something way bigger, something way stronger. 

   
As everyone probably knew, Sherlock hated everyone. Or at least he treated everyone like he did. When he had been in the kindergarten for those couple of weeks, he had just sat in the corner for hours in his mind palace, because everyone else was stupid and dull. Same thing happened in school. No one understood him, nor did Sherlock understand the others. Conclusion; _people were dull_. But when Sherlock went to high school, and he met John Watson, his life changed. John was the first person who Sherlock honestly cared about. There was that some kind of peacefulness and determination in John, and Sherlock liked it somehow. John was the first person who actually was his friend. John cared about how Sherlock was doing, what kind of cases did Sherlock have and he cared if Sherlock had eaten, which he didn't do often without John forcing him. Nobody had done that before and it confused Sherlock.  
 Then after being friends with John Sherlock started to notice it; he had some strange feelings for John. First he couldn't figure out what was it, but on that one day when Sherlock and John had solved one very tough case and went to Sherlock’s place, Sherlock had realized it. They had been sitting with their legs crossed in their armchairs next to a fireplace, they had both been relaxed and been laughing so hard that Mrs. Hudson in the upstairs probably had heard them. While wiping out his tears, it had hit Sherlock; he was in love with this boy. He was in love with John Hamish Watson. Not in love like some boring teenagers say when they have a new date and promise eternal love for each other after a week, not like that. Sherlock wasn't even able to explain his feelings, they were so strong. There was something very extraordinary in John.  
  
 Unfortunately John didn't feel the same. He had found a girlfriend, and according to him, he was completely in love. Sherlock had tried to look happy for John and Mary; he had congratulated them for their relationship and hidden his pain behind his poker face. But as soon as he had got home, he had had to release the pain somehow, and the best way for him to do it was to get drunk, cut his skin and watch that red liquid to stream out of his veins.  
  
 He didn't want to live without John. Of course John hadn't left Sherlock, but Sherlock couldn't live with the fact that John didn't want him as much Sherlock wanted John. He had thought about suicide for so many times he couldn't even count them anymore, but he had never told anything about it to John. Not even about his self-harming. He didn't want to hurt John. It wasn't John’s fault that he didn't have feelings for Sherlock.  
 Maybe if Sherlock was gone, John could live happily ever after with Mary, get married and have children. In the end Sherlock had been just additional weight on everyone’s shoulders.

 Sherlock couldn't stop himself anymore; tears were running down his face and falling onto his lap.  
  
 Today it would happen. Today the world would become a better place. Today Sherlock's pain would be over.  
 He got up, even though his legs felt as heavy as if they've been made of iron. He walked into the kitchen, got his bottle of whiskey from a little cupboard and some very strong pain killers. He sat down to his black leather chair. Tears still kept coming from his eyes, and he left out a loud sob.

 He thought about John. He would be the one who'd find Sherlock's body. He would be there in half an hour, at 8, like he did on every Friday. He couldn't just do it without leaving a note. He got up once again, went to his desk and got some paper and a pen. He started to write, and as he wrote his tears fell on the paper.  

 

 

 

> _"I'll close my eyes,_  
>  _Then I won't see_  
>  _The love you don't feel_  
>  _Morning will come,_  
>  _And I'll do what's right;_  
>  _Just give me till then_  
>  _To give up this fight_
> 
> _Hopefully those pills will actually kill the pain._  
>  _John, I love you, always have and always will._  
>  _–SH”_

He sat down in his chair, poured a dozen of pain killers on his palm and grabbed the whiskey bottle. He forced the pills down with the whiskey and put them down on the floor. He took the note into his hand and relaxed. 

After a while, Sherlock's vision started to blur. 

 _And I will give up this fight._  


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In its most wonderful form, what can love do?

"See you tomorrow then?" John said as he hugged Mary and gently stroking her blonde, soft hair in front of John's apartment.  
"Yeah, see you tomorrow!" she answered and gave a little kiss to her boyfriend.  
“Bye then”, John said with a smile on his face and started to walk away.  
He saw a cab and stopped it. "221B Baker Street, please", he said to the driver and jumped on.

After sitting in a cab for about 15 minutes, John arrived to Sherlock's home street. He paid and got out. He was standing in front of Sherlock's door, and hesitated; his legs felt like spaghetti, like they always did before meeting Sherlock. _Dammit John, pull yourself together._  
He opened the door and shouted. "Sherlock? It's me again!" No answer.  
"Hello?" Still no answer. Sherlock should be here, the door was unlocked. John went upstairs and knocked on Sherlock's door.  
"Hello? Sherlock?" No answer. John opened the door and stepped inside.

 

First he smelled it; whiskey. Right after that, he sure as hell saw it too.

"Oh my God. No." He whispered as he saw Sherlock.  
Sherlock sat with his eyes closed in his black leather armchair, his head and arms were hanging loosely, and there was a whiskey bottle and some pills on the floor. John rushed in front of Sherlock and knelt down.  
"Sherlock?! Oh my god. Sherlock, can you hear me?" John tried to find Sherlock's pulse, and after awhile he found it, but it was very weak. He decided to call 999.

"Hello, what's your emergency?" said the voice on the phone.  
"Hello, um , I.. my.. my friend has taken an- overdose of strong painkillers and whiskey. He.. he doesn't breathe and I can barely feel his pulse." John explained while tears ran over his face and fell onto Sherlock's shirt. The voice on the phone said they would send help.

  
John got up and carefully moved Sherlock on the floor. After setting Sherlock to lie on his back, John saw a white paper note in Sherlock’s hand. He picked it up, and read through the note, and could no longer stop himself from sobbing out loud.

 _"Hopefully they will actually kill the pain. John, I love you, always have and always will. - SH"  
_ "No. NO!" John screamed. He read the note again and again, and every time it hurt even more. This was all his fault. He was too late.

 John started to give Sherlock first aid, but after a moment John realized it didn't work. He didn't know what to do anymore; he just sat there next to Sherlock's body, crying.  
"Oh God. I am such an idiot. Sherlock, don't be.. dead. Don't do this to me."  
Nothing happened, nothing at all. John collapsed on Sherlock's body and sobbed.

For a moment John couldn't do or say anything. He was just sobbing against Sherlock’s thin and weak, lifeless body, thinking about how he had abandoned Sherlock for a person he didn't even love. Yes, he liked Mary and he had been happy for having a relationship, but the one he had always loved was Sherlock. Why had he been so fucking stupid? If he had talked about his feelings, Sherlock wouldn't be dying from an overdose.  
 John breathed in Sherlock’s smell, and all the happy memories with Sherlock came up to his mind. The day they met at the school, their first case, them spending time together at Sherlock's after finishing cases.. God, he missed those good cases. But more importantly he missed Sherlock. Now, it was too late to go back.   
"Sherlock.. Please. You have to give me another chance. You have to give me another chance to look into your eyes, hug you and never let go. To love you."

John had almost lost his hope, when all of a sudden, Sherlock beneath him inhaled sharply. John sat up so quickly his vision blurred, but he didn't care. He grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders as Sherlock slowly opened his eyes.

“Oh my-. Sherlock? Can you hear me? Are you alright?” John asked and shook Sherlock carefully. Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes a bit.  
“John.. I..” Sherlock whispered with a weak voice as John stroked his hair.  
“Shh.. Rest”, John said and pressed his lips gently against Sherlock’s. After that, Sherlock gave him a tiny little smile, and closed his eyes.

 

The ambulance stopped in front of Sherlock’s apartment, and right after that, John heard the paramedics running upstairs. John explained the situation to one of them, while two others took care of Sherlock, got him on a stretcher and carried into the ambulance. John sat beside him the whole journey to the hospital and held his hand.

In the hospital Sherlock was taken into a gastric lavage. John sat down on one of the seats in the white, quiet hallway that smelled like the combination of chlorine and latex. And so he waited.  
 About an hour later, when he was becoming impatient and anxious, he saw a nurse walking toward him.

"Are you John?" she asked him.

 _Oh no. He's dead._  
  
"..Yes?"   
"Sherlock's going to be alright, don't worry. I think you should get some sleep, you look pretty exhausted", she said.  
John let out a sigh of relief and said: "Thank you so much. Me? I'm okay, really. Um.. would you mind if I stay here for the night with him?"  
"Yeah, that's okay. Just try to rest, too, okay?" the nurse answered with a smile on her face. 

John got into the room which Sherlock was in. The only thing he heard was that partly annoying, partly relieving beeping noise coming from the machines at the same rate as Sherlock's heart pumped.  
Sherlock was lying on a hospital bed, he was probably sleeping. John moved a chair beside his bed.

John sat there for a while without saying a word. Sherlock was completely peaceful, there were no signs of stress or anything negative really. John was about to put his hand on Sherlock’s arm, but noticed the cuts and scars on them. John opened his mouth but closed it. His eyes started to fill with tears again.

“This is all- my fault”, John whispered as he put his hand on Sherlock’s palm. The tears started to run down John’s face.  
“I can’t even explain how sorry I am”, he said, sniffed and continued after a moment.  
“I love you. It’s been that way ever since we became friends. It just made me so scared.. I thought you didn't feel the same way. I’m so sorry. I’m not sure if you heard me back at your place when you were.. Anyways, I hope you’ll give me another chance. I’ll say this one more time, and then let you sleep, okay? I love you.” John leaned forward and gently kissed Sherlock on a cheek and then pressed his lips against Sherlock’s scarred arm.

 

And as John was kissing Sherlock’s arm and his tears were running onto the white sheets of the hospital bed, Sherlock grabbed his hand.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to make it happier! I'll publish the last one soon :)


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I hope you like it :-)

John opened his eyes. He was still sitting on his chair, leaning on the hospital bed. Someone had given him a blanket on him and a pillow under his head. John sat up and realized that something was missing. Or rather someone.  
“Oh, that bastard”, John muttered.

John exited the hospital. He looked around, tried to find Sherlock. Not a chance. The nurse told John that Sherlock had left a few hours ago, so John just decided to take a cab. When the cab stopped in front John’s family’s house, he saw the door opening. Mary. John hesitated, should he tell Mary the truth? He paid for the ride and got off the cab.  
 Mary seemed annoyed. Like, really annoyed. John breathed in and out, preparing for being yelled at. He walked past Mary, neither of them said anything. John went inside his house, took off his jacket and put it on the hanger.

“Where have you been?” Mary asked John with a calm but still tense voice. John didn't answer.  
“I tried to call and message you, but you didn't answer. I called your mum, and when she told me you hadn't come home for the night, I got so worried I almost called the police”, she continued. John looked up at Mary, who was standing about a meter away from him, her arms crossed.  
“But then I came up here and realized. You were cheating on me with some stupid bitch, weren’t you?”  
John felt the anger growing inside of him. She had just called a wrong person a stupid bitch.  
“You don’t know even half of this”, John spat out.  
“Oh, and now it’s my fault? You know, I would've never believed that you would do something like this. On our freaking six-month anniversary?!” Mary said raising her voice. John lost it.  
“Sherlock fucking attempted committing a suicide last night and it’s all my fault!” John shouted. Mary stared at John, didn't say anything.  
“Screw our anniversary. Everything’s gone wrong for so long, and it’s all my fault!” tears started to fill John’s eyes again.  
“How can you even possibly say that? I am your girlfriend for God’s sake!” Mary yelled.  
“Well you’re not for long anymore”, John muttered.  
“What? Are you breaking up with me?” Mary asked, shocked.  
“Yes, I am. We have to put an end to this. I am sorry that I have to hurt you and put you through this, I really am. This is my fault”, John said.  
“Oh and now you're telling me that you've been in love with Sherlock for all this time. How fun would that be?” Mary said with a really sarcastic voice. John just stood there quiet and stared Mary into her eyes.  
“Wait, are you actually telling me that? Really?” Mary asked, now confused. John’s expression probably told her the answer.  
“Okay”, Mary whispered, picked up her stuff and jacket, and then she was gone.

John let out a loud sob. This had been too much for him. His mother walked in front of him from the living room and hugged him.  
“I heard you talking with Mary. Tell me what happened? It’s okay. I’ll make you some tea”, she said and John nodded. He went to the living room and sat down on the couch. Rain drummed against the roof. When it had started raining?  
 John realized he was worried as hell about Sherlock. He hadn’t messaged John or anything the whole day. _Was he doing okay?  
_ After John’s mother came back with biscuits and a big mug of tea and sat down next to John, John told her everything what had happened during the last 16 hours. Well, almost everything.

 

The hours passed. The clock kept ticking; still no signs of Sherlock.  
In the evening, when John was sitting by his kitchen table eating crumpets, he heard a knock on the door. He tried to look out of the window but it was too dark and rainy outside to see. He got up and walked to the door.  He opened it, and Sherlock was standing there in the rain, all his clothes and beautiful curls were dripping wet. Sherlock looked sad, and he just stood there, staring at John with empty eyes.  
“Sherlock? Uhm... Come in?” John stuttered, and Sherlock stepped in. He was quiet.  
“Okay. Let me take your coat, okay? God, how long have you been out there in the rain? You’ll get a cold”, John talked calmly as he took Sherlock’s coat and scarf and placed them on a hanger too.

 John turned towards Sherlock.  
“Are you okay?” he asked.  
“I always am”, Sherlock said quickly. John sighed.  
“Seriously Sherlock, look at me”, John said and waited until Sherlock looked John right into the eyes.  
“You're not okay. What’s wrong?”  
“It’s just my family. They don’t seem to care about me at all. Mycroft is being... difficult again. And stuff”, Sherlock said and glanced away from John. John nodded and turned his face away from Sherlock.  
“Mum! Is it okay if Sherlock spends the night here?” he shouted. His mum was okay with it, so John led Sherlock into his room and closed the door after them.

 John watched Sherlock standing there awkwardly in the middle of John’s room. Was he okay? He was acting so weird. Like, weirder than normally.  
“You'll have to get a shower. Now”, John said. He opened one of his cupboards and took a clean towel, a t-shirt and cotton shorts, and handed them to Sherlock.  
“You can lend these, if you'd like. They're probably too big for you, but I hope you won't mind”, John said. Sherlock thanked John and went to the bathroom, and after a while John heard the water running.  
He picked a towel too and walked to the bathroom's door; it was unlocked. John opened it and stepped inside. 

He saw Sherlock standing under the shower, with a nervous look on his face. He didn't move, and he looked really embarrassed. John smiled at him.  
“Is it okay if I come with you? We can save water this way”, John laughed and went under the shower too, next to Sherlock. Sherlock calmed down a little bit.  
They were both showering quietly, when all of a sudden John got shampoo in his eyes.  
“Oooh shit! Oh my God. It hurts!” John screamed. He heard Sherlock giggling.  
“What? It’s not funny, Sherlock!” John said while trying hard not to laugh too.  
“Your face!” Sherlock managed to say while he started to laugh even harder, pointing at John’s face. John bursted into laughter too and for a moment they both just giggled there under the shower and they had to lean on each other to keep the balance.

After getting out of the shower John went downstairs and ordered some Chinese fast food. He returned to his room and found Sherlock sitting on his bed reading a book about beekeeping, still wrapped in his towel. John giggled a little bit.  
“You look like one of those ancient Greeks who wore togas”, John said.  
“They weren’t Greeks. They were Romans”, Sherlock said without looking away from his book.  
“Oh well, sorry that I’m not perfect like you”, John said. Sherlock didn’t answer.  
“By the way I ordered some Chinese, so come downstairs when you’re ready, okay?” John said and went back downstairs.

When John had been sitting on the couch with his mum for a moment, John saw Sherlock coming downstairs. He looked really cute in John’s clothes. He looked embarrassed, so John smiled at him and told him to come sit next to him.  
And so they sat on the couch with John’s mum watching some dull TV-show and John could feel his mother looking at him and Sherlock and smiling.  
 The doorbell rang. John got to the door and paid for the food. After a minute John carried a massive amount of delicious-looking food into the living room, and for the next half an hour the only noise they heard was the sound of the chopsticks and the TV.

 _“I love him”_ , John thought while washing his teeth. He flushed his mouth and looked at himself from the mirror. _“I really do.”  
_  John got out from the bathroom, wearing a t-shirt and shorts, too. He stood in front of the door of his bedroom for a moment, trying to find his courage. His legs felt like spaghetti again. He slowly opened the door and stepped inside. He saw a mattress on the floor and bedclothes on it that his mum had put there, but deep inside John hoped that the mattress wouldn’t be needed. Sherlock was sitting on John's bed reading the book again.

John sat down next to Sherlock. Awkward silence. Sherlock turned the next page of the book. John glanced at Sherlock and nervously licked his lips.  
“Do you really have to read now?” John asked as he leaned towards Sherlock.  
“Yes”, Sherlock answered, once again not looking away from his book. John sighed.  
“Well... I suppose if you have a better idea to spend the time...” Sherlock said and turned to John.  
“..Then I could drop my book for a while” he finished.  
“Better idea, you said?” John said and smiled. He grabbed Sherlock around his waist and pulled him on top of him. Sherlock threw the book on floor without turning his eyes away from John.

John stared Sherlock right into his eyes, moved Sherlock dark curls behind his ears and left his hand on back of Sherlock’s neck.  
“I-”, John began, but before he had even started his sentence properly, Sherlock pressed his lips on John’s. He hesitated and pulled back a little bit, his face was flushed. He was beginning to say something but John just pulled him down again and kissed him.

After cuddling for about half an hour, John and Sherlock were lying next to each other, with John’s leg over Sherlock’s body and his hand on Sherlock’s chest. He had buried his face in Sherlock’s curls and his mouth was just next to Sherlock’s ear.  
“I love you so much”, John whispered and pressed a kiss back of Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock was quiet. He didn't say anything for a moment. _Fuck._  
  
All of a sudden, John heard Sherlock letting out just a tiny little sobs. John automatically held him more tightly, and he started to give Sherlock a little, comforting kisses on his neck and face.  
Shh… Is something wrong?” John asked, stroked Sherlock’s hair and waited for a moment.  
“I just- I love you too. So freaking much. You are literally my life saviour. I owe you so much, and I think I’ll never be able to give you as much as you have given to me. I've always thought that every single person is super-stupid and no-one could ever make me feel real feelings. I really didn't even want them to. But when I met you… My whole worldview changed. You changed my world. You are my world. You are the only thing I have and the first thing I’ve ever had. Probably the last thing I'll ever have, too. I'm so sorry about yesterday night. I’m sorry about everything. I'm such a selfish dickhead.”

As Sherlock spoke, tears started running over John’s face, making his pillow case wet. He hugged Sherlock really tightly and buried his face in Sherlock’s hair again.  
“I love you just the way you are, Sherlock. Don’t be sorry. You’re my little selfish dickhead, and that’s all that matters to me”, John whispered into Sherlock ear.  
Both of them fell asleep pretty quickly after that, an they slept peacefully like a little babies, spooning each other.

 

 

 

 

> _Love is a drug and you are my cigarette_   
>  _Love is addiction and you are my Nicorette_   
>  _Love is a drug like chocolate like cigarettes_   
>  _I'm feeling sick; I've got to medicate myself_
> 
> _You're the origin of love_   
>    
>  _Thank God that you found me_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by "Origin of Love" by the lovely Mika and "Safe With Me" by my prince Sam Smith, and one part was inspired by a lovely fanart by the tumblr user jawnlock-shipper (http://jawnlock-shipper.tumblr.com/post/83202244629/teen-lock-yes-i-have-a-much-better-idea) so yeah, thanks for letting me lend your art. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still practising on writing in English so please don't mind about all the mistakes. If you liked it, please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos, thank you!


End file.
